


Scotland winds

by yet_another_cloud



Category: History Boys (2006), History Boys - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, M/M, Stu is not a prick, Tom's having troubles with parents, or at least sometimes, speaking of coming out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 13:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15686253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_another_cloud/pseuds/yet_another_cloud
Summary: Stu and Tom spend a few days in Scotland





	Scotland winds

Stuart Dakin looks around, huddling out of the fresh and salty wind. As he notices a slender figure sitting in the distance right on the rocks, he pulls his hood on and starts climbing through a wet rocky path.

As far as Scotland was first mentioned, Dakin instantly decided on adjusting his own leave as well. Hanging around in dusty silence of old abbeys, museums and libraries accompanied by the sexiest historian in the UK is worth the journey itself. And then there was another secret goal of going to some remote corner of nowhere together. Stuart recalled their school daytrip; how vivid and uninhibited Irwin looked guiding them through the ruined abbey. It was like some inner spring had released inside of him as long as he slipped off from heavy city pressure. Stuart was keen to see it again. 

That was apparently why he suggested that tiny seaside hotel some twenty miles from Inverness as their ending point. It’s a quiet nook out of the way, really; the gloomy host throws _looks_ sometimes - shit, two single rooms arranged on the opposite sides of a corridor, and they have to tiptoe to each other at night not making any noise; it’s funny. When Dakin said it adds some spice, Irwin rolled his eyes, of course. But the place is cute, and the sea is just out of the window; they can hear waves roaring and lapping day and night. 

 

Today, the sea is raging. Not only outside, perhaps.

Stu drops himself onto the rock next to Tom and sits a bit in silence, trying to even his breath with the waves rhythm, _immersing himself into the moment_ (at the gym he visits twice a week, there's a Chinese wushu guru, whose ideas, as Dakin has learned recently, are even more useful in apply to life with Irwin than in coping with everyday office distress).

‘Remember you’ve told me about Shubert once? That he could calm down the sea and walk upon it.’ 

Tom doesn’t avert his eyes from some distant spot near the horizon, but sighs.

‘My parents called. I leaved this phone number as a second way to find me just in case,’ – his voice sounds distant and hollow.

Fuck. 

‘Anything happened?’

‘No, ‘– Tom winces, – ‘Not really. Just… - Nothing. I didn’t talk to them for a couple of months.’

No wonder. ‘A couple of months’ is more or less a period of time they’ve been together for so far. Stu looks at Tom’s stiffened profile.

It’s a trick to light a fag in the salt wind, but finally Dakin succeeds; he drags deeply and passes a fag to Tom.

‘You’re not telling them,’ – he says softly. It’s all a sore point, he knows.

Tom shakes his head. 

‘Now we talk, at least. I could learn how they’re doing, ‘- he snorts, more a grimace than a sad smile. – ‘…from time to time. - You know, they’re not young at all.’

Stuart nods. Judging from what he managed to learn about Tom’s family from occasional words Tom dropped now and then, Mr-Irwin-the-Senior is definitely not a kind of person who let all sort of flowers bloom in their own garden. He never stopped trying to make his only son know his faults in choosing a uni, a profession, a place to work at and a city to live in, let alone his way of living a life at all. 

Looking how Tom struggles to keep a face in spite of a spasm distorting his lips, Stuart thinks: some things never change. Tom is obviously a matured person; successful, prosperous – even happy now, he dares to hope so, - but still. There’re wounds that don’t heal. Fucking shame. 

 

Tom flicks the butt away and gives him a side look.

‘You’re not telling your mum either, are you?’

‘Well, ‘- Stu replies easily, squinting at him, - ‘I should tell her, at some point. There will be Christmas time, at last.’

Now Tom’s expression is so a remarkable mixture of amusement, disbelief and genuine horror that Stu couldn’t help but laughs.

‘Come on, she’d like you, sooner or later. You’re a telly man; and you’re clever, and handsome. And I like you – which figures in this case.’ 

With a friendly poke into Tom’s ribs, Stu leads an ace – ‘and she cooks pretty well, by the way.’

Tom smirks – ‘Knowing you, it’s noticeable.’

‘What?’

Actually, Stuart is in excellent physical form, a fucking devoted athletic, - Tom is the first one to learn it _in practice_ , - so their continuous banter on the topic of figure is another way of flattering each other; they both are aware of it pretty well.

Irwin smiles. – ‘Those who used to be a foodie from an early age, remain so for life.’ 

‘Hah, you couldn’t be wrong more. You know the most exceptional cooker in Sheffield? Posner’s mum. And you’ve seen him; can anyone concern him as a foodie?’

Irwin smiles again – ‘They are Jew. Jew mums are out of competition.’

 

‘Tom, ‘- 

When Tom turns around and meets Stuart’s gaze, it’s all serious and soulful, not a hint of immediate joy left in it. It’s still all new for Tom; he couldn’t get used to that part of Dakin that seems to have been grown up without him being near. – 

‘I’m with you. I take you the way you are, and you take me as well. And look, I mean it. If at once we’d have one place for Christmas visits instead of two – it’s more than nothing, anyway.’ 

Tom swallows hard and nods looking straight into Dakin’s eyes, silently.

 

‘Come on, let’s look for a lunch, I’m starving, ‘ – Dakin rises up swiftly and offers a hand.

Irwin laughs. – ‘That’s what I’ve spoken about.’

‘…said our underfed TV star. Would they hire you if you gain a couple of pounds?’

‘They appreciate me for my brains, I suppose, ‘– Irwin struggles for not to be taken in with Stu’s mockingly unbelieving smile – ‘And I’m not keeping figure, I told you. I just – prefer more refined pleasures, to say that.’

‘Well, they are scheduled too, but wait for a little later.’

‘You’re gross. That’s not what I mean,’ – Irwin chuckles, but Dakin remains totally unashamed.

‘That’s what **_I_** mean about you, ‘ – he retorts as he catches Tom’s hand and pulls him close to press a kiss at his lips – a brief and light one, but with deliberate hint of a promise in it – and then leads forward jumping from one rock to another.


End file.
